


Sur Le Pont d'Avignon

by Scylla



Category: Casino Royale (2006), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-19
Updated: 2008-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Scylla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vesper sees Yusef everywhere, like a black cat in her path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sur Le Pont d'Avignon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggimus_Rex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggimus_Rex/gifts).



> Written for Froggimus Rex

 

 

Vesper saw him on the bank of the Rhone from the corner of her eye. It was not the first time he appeared since James left the hospital. That he should be in her mind at all these days - much less at the edges of her vision - was flatly improbable, but there was no mistaking his hard-edged figure, or the way she responded to it.

He was gone when Vesper turned her head. She hesitated in confusion, and the inertia of the crowd swept her to the railing of the Pont d'Avignon. Leaning out, fingers tight on the rail, she searched the sidewalk winding beneath the last arch of the Pont and the grassy bank below. Like the ghosts fluttering treacherously at the edges of perception, the familiar silhouette dissolved in daylight reality. Vesper saw nothing but tourists.

"That's a rather long face for Avignon on a sunny day," James commented, leaning on the railing beside her. Vesper rucked up a smile as she met his gaze, pretending he hadn't caught her by surprise.

"You seem to take such pleasure in mangling French words," she said, arch lilt of her tone matching the curve of white neck she offered him to kiss. When his lips touched her skin, the smiling curl of them said he'd noticed her deflection, but seemed willing to play along. For a few minutes they simply stood together in the sun, sharing the radiant heat of the glowing stonework around them. Vesper traced the inside of his arm with her fingertips; carefully avoided looking down at the sidewalk. His penetrative, thoughtful gaze let her know he had noticed this as well. She wished he would turn those eyes away. "It is late," she murmured, mouth tightening in annoyance, "we should go."

The amusement vanished from James's expression. "Did you see someone?" he asked. In the clipped terseness Vesper heard the ever-present wariness. He hid it well, but someday he expected the past to find them.

"I thought I did," Vesper admitted, "but I am an accountant, my eyes are more accustomed to sums and totals than human faces. It was my imagination." Her voice betrayed her defeat and the ache around the hems of her heart, and Vesper sighed as she saw comprehension flicker in his eyes. "Is there _anything_ I am allowed to hide from you?"

"You know the answer to that," James replied. The tip of his index finger brushed the spot where the knotted pendant once lay against her chest. He bent to kiss her and she reached to him; only barely felt the bite of stone railing against the small of her back. James was excellent at kissing mostly for his unpracticed roughness. It was easy for Vesper to drown her thoughts in the passion of hope and newness.

The last of the sun followed Vesper and James back to their hotel, illuminating the unlit room with red-gold brilliance. By then, the memory darkening Vesper's thoughts had returned to its place. James was laughing at her impression of their disagreeable dinner hostess, _really_ laughing, and with the sound all the gleeful dazzle of the sun-drenched French countryside found her again. They made love in the balcony doorway, ignoring the housecats and old women watching avidly from windows down the street. James caught up her hair in his fingers, laced his hands together at the base of her skull and breathed against her throat. She realized with startling clarity that there had been no casual interludes between them. If her initial calculation of his interest in women was correct, she was the exception to his rule in more ways than her lack of marital status. He was an intense and extremely pleasant bedmate, but lacked polish, suave intent and the gentlemanly manners she was accustomed to in others. There was no part of him detached from her, Vesper understood with surprise, and a rush of warmth and chill grief flooded her. All this and she still watched for Yusef.

 _I do not want to break your heart,_ Vesper worried, guilt and affection intertwined. She kissed his forehead and tipped her face to the rosy sky, and felt a little better, _but I suppose your heart can take it, being broken so little._

* * *

The Rhone was a constant magnetic draw. James and Vesper wandered along its bank, or mingled with the busy stream of people crowding the sidewalks, enjoying - for the most part - the unusual option to do very little. The shadow of Yusef did not plague Vesper in all that time, and she began to believe it truly was just a figment of her fancy or only a man who resembled him. Bit by bit, however, James was growing restless. Vesper noticed, suggested Venice; James readily agreed.

"I believe I'm beginning to like this shiftless existence," he chuckled.

"How is it different from your previous existence?" Vesper teased, sashaying a little for his benefit in her long yellow skirt, "moving from country to picturesque country at a moment's notice, living in expensive hotels, sleeping with dangerous women..." 

"The retirement plan is better," James tucked two fingers into Vesper's belt and disrupted the swish of her stride, "and for another thing, the view is far more attractive." he tugged her close and kissed her temple. She escaped, twisting from his grip like a child, and turned to dance ahead of him, laughing with her eyes.

From the edge of her vision Vesper caught the dark and familiar silhouette, and though her stomach dipped as she pivoted quickly to follow it with her gaze, the curve of her smile did not fade. It was only a moment's glimpse; she seemed never allowed more than that. Was he truly there, and free, or was this only her wishful thinking? And _why_? Why did her mind persist in playing these games with her, when Yusef was beyond her reach? James came abreast of her, catching her hand.

"No games, Vesper," he laughed, "it's too soon after-- what?" for Vesper stiffened. Once again, she felt the wariness overtake him and he seemed to grow larger, not pausing until he'd put the solid bole of an oak tree between them and the direction he'd seen her gazing. The park was full of them, _lined_ with them. Vesper wondered with detached curiosity if soldiers used them for cover in ancient wars; if Mi6 agents had schematics of all the major European parks. She was grateful for the warmth of his body pressing against hers, as she was suddenly very cold.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Vesper protested before he could speak, "it's this place, we've been here too long. I am always afraid we've been followed."

"Should I worry we've been followed?" James demanded. There was no suspicion in his voice, but in his blue eyes - it stung Vesper to see it - was a steel glint of mistrust.

"How should I know?"

James insisted on investigating the whole of the waterfront, accompanied by Vesper at her demand, even beneath the Pont. She held her breath at every corner, but there was nothing. Vesper's irrational mind imagined stumbling upon a message from Yusef; a note tucked in a crack or crevice or a dropped flower by the sidewalk, but her common sense steered her sternly away from such ideas. The longer she walked, the better she realized that it was not the possible note that held her in such suspense, but that he - that _anyone_ \- might be hunting her. James seemed to radiate cold; Vesper supposed her epiphany could be shared tomorrow.

He did not speak when they returned to the hotel that evening. Vesper allowed him the space of privacy and willingly held her peace. Two wary loners suddenly sharing bed space, living space, _life_ space - even the small separation of a few hours' silence was relief. The sky darkened by degrees, and the Pont vanished in a wrapping of hazy violet and pinprick stars. He reached for Vesper as she undressed. Between his apparent enthusiasm and her eagerness to forget the day, they spoke little in terms requiring speech. Afterward, too languid to worry, Vesper lifted his left hand and laid it against her chest. The heavy, lightly callused palm pressed soothingly on the pendant's empty spot. James wasn't yet asleep, she was sure, but he did not acknowledge the gesture.

Vesper slept little and woke early. False dawn found her mulling over the previous day. What if it truly was Yusef? Was he trying to contact her? Warn her? When she chose to cast her lot with Quantum to save James, she could only assume her actions cost Yusef his life. But what if he had escaped after all, before news of her change of heart reached the organization holding him for ransom? What did it mean, and what would she do?

She had no answers and the thoughts spun back upon themselves. Restless, she rose from bed and dressed, allowing her curiosity and tangled mind to guide her out into the street. It brought her to the Pont, as she expected it would, though far faster than she expected. In spite of the early morning hour, the light seemed to grow darker and darker. She waited beneath the arches, realizing as she scuffed the ball of her foot that she had come without shoes.

"Vesper," a low voice echoed up the bank, and the familiar silhouette materialized from behind the pillar nearest to the shore, "Vesper, what are you doing? At _last_ I find you, and...?" a dark-gloved hand lifted to the Avignon skyline, and somewhere out of sight, the hotel room where James was... probably awake now and looking for her.

"I don't know," Vesper replied, feeling the feather brush of fear along her nerves, "I..."

"You break my heart. We were to be together, Vesper. And you chose him, over us? How can you choose his life over mine? You have lost your purpose." A blink, a breath after Vesper knew something was wrong with him, with _everything_ , there was a grinding click and a flash of silver metal in the dark. "Choose," Yusef ordered, and shoved the pistol into Vesper's hand. It felt oddly light, and was warmer than metal should be. "Either kill me and go to him." He stepped toward her, driving her back, and in the light beyond the shadows of the pillars, his eyes and face were not Yusef, but James. "Or go with Yusef, and let me die on my own as I would have done without your help."

Vesper jerked, and clawed her way desperately out of sleep. She still leaned against the headboard, but the morning had grown late, and James was watching her with open curiosity. Last night's cool disregard had vanished, and again he seemed all warm boyish eagerness. "Bad dreams?" James asked.

The steel entered Vesper's soul, and as she lifted her chin and shook her head, she decided. The pistol fired; a man died. She did not choose James, or not _only_ James.

She chose hope. Perhaps a selfish hope - for a life of freedom and adventure outside of bloodshed. A life with James was worth the cost of another man's life, Vesper decided, and was unsurprised that with the decision she felt no more uncertainty, and no guilt.

"No nightmares, James," Vesper said, and moved from her vigil against the headboard to lie beside him, betraying nothing as she coiled an arm around his waist. "I'm ready to leave this place."

"Lucky thing it's morning," James replied drily.

"It is, yes, at last," Vesper agreed, and smiled. 

 


End file.
